The inordinate and uncontrolled feeling of rage which may lead to self-destructiveness, violence, and hate.
"Good morning." Em offered from the doorway.
Hannibal had risen early to make breakfast; his sleeves were rolled up and he was in his apron, tending to sausages on the pan.
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" he had to turn to confirm she had heard - she just smiled sadly. Her eyes were red and she looked more dead than alive, curled into a jumper too big on her tiny frame. She was otherwise dressed, the ends of her black hair were damp from a shower.
"How did you sleep?" she at least returned the curtosey.
"All things considered, my five hours were a good five hours. Do you like sausages?"
"I've never had them for breakfast."
"You are deprived." he shoveled them onto a plate.
"I can't cook anything that doesn't involve a microwave or a toaster." Probably not the best way to frame the follow up question. "Can I help?"
"Please, sit." he put her plate in front of her. "You look exhausted. Coffee?"
"Three sugars, please."
"Sweet tooth." He accused playfully, and she smiled for him. "Will is already on his way."
"Good." she nodded slowly. "That's-... that's good."
"Willow." he said as he slid the coffee over to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nope." she sipped her beverage. "Oh, this is lovely. You're lovely."
He smiled at her.
"You're still drunk."
"And the world keeps spilling. Spinning. Sorry." she giggled into the rim of her coffee, and inhaled the fumes. "Yum. I love your coffee, Hannibal. The machine's pretty too. You are pretty."
"Thank you, I think."
"Don't think. You are. Lovely cheekbones and hands like- Hey, did you say Will was coming?"
"I did."
"Oh good. I like Will. You like him too, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Oh good. Good." she nodded, sipped some coffee. "This hang over is going to be horrific!"
"I can imagine."
"I've been mixing drinks." she beamed. "Invited Jack to the party when the rum was gone. Hey, when is Will going to be here?"
He tended to sausages.
"Soon."
"Good. Hey, Hannibal?"
"Mm?"
"Thanks for letting me stay."
"You are most welcome."
"You don't really make me feel safer. You know?" she paused, staring intently at his face. "I like having you around. It's better than being alone. You know?"
"I do."
"But you don't make me feel safer." there seemed to be a point she was making, but she got distracted by the coffee and started complimenting the pretty coffee machine again.
"I should like to think I make you feel much safer."
"Oh, a little, I guess. Not much. Thanks." He served the sausages and eggs with toast that she stared at for a long second, with a frown.
"What's the matter, Em?"
"I've never had sausages for breakfast before." she scrunched up her nose, then laughed. "Have I said that already?"
"Yes."
"Whoops. It's okay. Smells good. I'll eat them any way."
And she did. It was almost painful to watch her navigate the fork to her mouth. Not once but twice she missed and scraped the prongs on her front tooth, and she pinched her lip to bleeding with the repetitive utensil to mouth swing.
"So..." she swallowed a hard mouthful, pulling a face.
"Don't you like them?"
"Texture's funny." she mumbled, and twirled her fork in the eggs.
"This is how you make sausages for breakfast." he replied. "I made them myself, with heart."
"Oh... - th-that's good. I wish I could-... I- uhm... Make sausages."
"You can make sausages." he reminded her. He wondered how much she was actually aware of. "I might just need to give you a hand."
"Y-...Yeah..." he didn't leave it unnoticed she stopped eating, then, setting her fork down so carefully it didn't make a sound. "Uh, Dr. Lecter, I - I had something I wanted to - say. About... Lounds." and the particular way she spat the name inclined the doctor to believe that she did in fact, have a history with the redhead.
"I was taught if I had nothing nice to say, I shouldn't say it." he said smoothly.
"I wanted to explain." she looked up at him, her expression child-like. "I shouldn't have hit her, but I'm not sorry."
"Was that what you wanted to say?"
"No." she gulped her coffee. "I wanted- to say... That, she is... Really nasty. She had it coming. I've known her for - a long time. And she knows me as E.M... As Em." her head tilted.
"But she didn't make the list. Bert's- ... She didn't make his list, but she knows both of me... And I wouldn't put it past her to kill someone for a story."
"I don't think Freddie Lounds is the Encompassed killer." he told her, quite frankly.
She fixed him with a surprisingly serious look.
"There's an interesting theory for you." she murmured, then straightened, brightened, as there was a knock on the door. "Do you think that's Will?"
"Yes."
"I'll get it!" She bounced out of her chair, cracked her hip on the counter, and threw the door open to let it slam on the wall. "Hi, Will." and she appeared to be trying to sink into him, her arms about his waist. He startled, and paused a moment, before returning the favour. When she didn't let him go, he tucked his cheek on her head in an effort to ground her.
"Hi, Willow." he said, and she adjusted her cheek to hide her eyes in the folds of his jacket.
"Missed you." she said, muffled, and his heart broke a little.
"I... Missed you too."
He met Dr. Lecter's eyes, conveying his worry, and the doctor inclined his head slightly, turning to busy himself with getting his coat, meticulously do up each button.
"This is going to be a stupid question..." he said mildly.
"I'll give you a stupid answer." the promise was said in good spirit.
"Are you okay?" his hands involuntarily squeezed her shoulders, and she returned the favour.
"Abso-lutely."
He sighed slightly, and tucked his face next to hers.
"I'm tired." she confessed in a whisper. "So tired."
"I know." he soothed.
"I had these - dreams." her voice cracked, and she turned her face slightly. He adjusted so that his eyes didn't cross when he looked at her. "I dreamt in shadows. In memories stretched together, distorted. I dreamt it all in Timothy Bell's blood. It consumed me. Blinded me. I could see this face and it was just - horrific - familiar - muscle and melted skin... I was drowning."
"That does sound exhausting."
"And on top of it all, I'm hung over. Well, still drunk. Mostly still drunk."
He cocked a smile, but it was only to acknowledge her humour, not because he found it particularly funny. His hand cupped the back of her head and his spine straightened.
"Anything you need, Willow."
"I think..." she swallowed. "Could we just pretend that we're totally okay with being affectionate today? I'm not usually... But I'm having a bit of a hard time... letting you go."
"I can do that." he knew the intimacies of her aching heart, and would of course allow it.
If she had been miserable he would've sought her out to fix the hollow in her chest or turned tail and ran off. This was better; being the support and knowing what he said would heal her, help her through. Her expression was so sad, he could barely stand it. He wanted to wipe away that sadness, scrub it right off her face, have her smile at him once more.
"I wanna go in your car." she told him with a bright smile. "You can drive me, right?"
"Sure."
"I'll gonna go pass out in the backseat, okay?" she pressed a quick kiss to his cheekbone, her clumsy hand dipping into his back pocket to steal his keys.
Hannibal just rose his brows, watching her teeter dangerously to one side as she unlocked and climbed into Will's car. She pulled off her jumper and tucked it under her head as a pillow, and they didn't see her resurface.
They had gone in to go over what they had missed when Willow had walked out of the crime scene. She signed a novel for Beverly Katz, posed for a selfie with her, then sulked in Jack's office.
It was Hannibal that had to coax her into sleep. Will was too familiar with being so frightened of what crept up on him in dreams, he knew too well what it meant to evade sleep to keep focus. So he allowed the eye rolls and head jerks up and down, let her anxiously pace the small room, feeding her energy drinks from his stash.
"That's enough." Hannibal took the can out of her loose hand, and she mumbled a protest.
"I'm awake." she said, blinking bleakly up at them both.
"You'll encourage a heart attack." the doctor told Will. "Let me handle this."
"I'm not to be handled." she scowled playfully up at him. "You're pretty, but not my type."
"Em." he said in a gentle, firm way. "Willow."
"Yus?"
"You need to sleep. You are running on nothing but sugar."
"And caffeine. I'm awake. I'm fine."
"You are not fine, and you're hardly awake." his eyes flicked between hers. He put his hands up on her face, making her gaze droop down to him. Her chin dimpled, and one hand touched his wrist.
"Don't be this way." she said very softly. "Don't be so warm with me."
"Why not?"
"I don't-... I'm not used to it. I can't." she tried to pull her face from him but the pads of his fingers settled behind her jaw, anchoring her in place. It helped, of course, that she didn't struggle very hard. "Don't be warm with me, please."
"Willow. You need to sleep."
"I don't. I don't need to." she swallowed a nervous mouthful, sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed it. "I'm fine."
"You tell me you're fine, but I never asked. Come now. Lie down."
"I don't want to."
"Lie down, Willow."
"No. No." she put her other clammy hand over his.
"Are you scared?"
"Of course I'm scared. I'd be sociopathic if I wasn't. He killed Bert." she hiccupped, shut her mouth and eyes, leaning into his palms, squeezing his wrists. "Don't be so warm with me, please."
"Willow. You are in a safe place. He can't get you in here."
"He can get me in here." she tapped his pointer finger, of which was resting on her temple.
"If you have a nightmare, I will wake you."
"You won't."
"I will. I will sit right here and keep an eye on you."
"Thanks, Edward, but I'll pass."
"It wasn't an offer. I'm telling you. Look at me." she scrunched her eyes. "Willow. Open your eyes, please."
She pulled on one of his hands and it landed on her knee. She squeezed his fingers for bravery, then pulled her head away from the remaining hand and cracked open one watering eye.
"I don't want to sleep."
He just replaced his hand on the back of her neck, and eased her into laying down on the cushions. She exhaled a long held breath when her temple hit the material, tears squeezing out between her lashes. He went about taking off her boots and putting her feet up on the couch with clinical hands directing her legs. He tucked Jack's huge winter coat around her tiny frame and dragged a chair over to sit beside the couch.
Will and Jack, who could not hear the muted conversation, watched on as the doctor proceeded to cross his legs at the ankle, fold his arms, and peer at her over the arm of the couch. She opened her eyes once more to check he was there, smiled when she found him, and almost instantly passed out again.
Will dropped her off and stayed for a quick council with the doctor, nothing over ten minutes. Em had been quiet since rousing from her snooze to violently empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet, and had stayed quiet all day as she sobered up. She didn't offer any help and she didn't bother getting off the couch until they had to go to Hannibal's, which he once again offered to her as a safe house.
They found the box because Will nearly stepped on it on his way out.
Hannibal cut it open with a pen knife, and some little creature flew out. Will swatted at it, before realizing it was a hornet, buzzing angrily around his head.
Inside the box were a bunch of carefully bound flowers above a series of bloody photographs, clearly taken in great haste. Most were unidentifiable. The rest were shaky and blurred at best. Not-so-neatly printed on a shock of vibrant blue cardboard was a series of numbers, latitude and longitude.
"I know you now." Willow said, her hand curled protectively around her water filled glass. She peered around Hannibal's bicep, her expression completely unphased. "I've got your motive, Jon. Won't be long before I get you."
Will flanked Hannibal's side with a frown.
"What do these flowers mean?" he tried to see past them, to identify the photos.
"Daffodil. Well, a breed of it." she fingered a petal very carefully. "It means: 'Return my affection'. If I'm his god, I'm offended that he thinks a bunch of flowers is enough to woo me." her face hardened, and she looked up with narrowed eyes at Dr. Lecter.
"I suppose we have to take these in to Jack. My dear Jon knows where I'm staying. We're potentially in a bit of trouble."
"It would appear so." the Dr. wasn't sure if he was impressed with Willow baiting him, or the murderer finding them. "You... You were overly affectionate today."
"Yes sir. My Jon doesn't like it. I had to do something. I figured it out last night, but..." she shrugged. "I had to try."
"You have the motive?" Will was relieved. He wasn't sure how much longer he could study the photos or the mounting pile of bodies.
"Yes I do. I told you I characterized best when I was drunk. Well last night you left, and I got very, very drunk." she gulped the water. "Better get to Jack before he leaves the office. Or before Jon makes a move, whatever."
They filed out of the house, Dr. Lecter carrying the box, Will fussing for his keys, Em still trying to sober up.
Will's car was buzzing. The entire thing was filled with angry hornets, every possible entrance taped shut. His grill was a solid silver wad of duct tape, and the exhaust had a tennis ball squashed into the entrance and taped over that.
"I suppose I am driving, then."
"I'd say so, Doctor."
"Jack." they collectively swooped into Jack's office with the energy of a thunderstorm. The little writer was flanked by them both, her chin raised, eyes partly narrowed. "I've got the motive."
"You have?"
"Yes, I have." she waited until they all sat, taking a seat beside Hannibal rather than beside Will. "Will helped me realize it. But I didn't want to say anything in the event I was wildly wrong. I was drunk when I - to speak your language, I profiled him." she rolled that around her mouth like it was covered in sand.
She waited a moment, gathering the words she felt most fitting.
"He's modeling them after the seven deadly sins."
"What?"
"Gluttony for holding out on a starving man to feed herself past her tolerance for food. Lust between siblings. Greed from a man who wanted to brace the top of the hierarchy. Pride from a woman who would kill her child for no other reason than to preserve her figure. And- sloth." her voice cracked. "For a man who spent the better part of his life... Sitting on his bum, writing novels..."
"So what's left?"
"Envy and Wrath. I believe his plan... His focus... That's now shifted. He clearly has a problem with Will... But he might be confused, because I'm staying in Dr. Lecter's home." she put her hand out and squeezed the back of the chair closest to her. "I only got it because Will said I was his god. The books were his bible. And when I started talking about why these murders were committed in my novel... I realized I had been punishing them for the things they did."
She heaved a huge, world weary sigh.
"I created them all. I gave them personalities, histories, beliefs. And then I punished them. It's very first testament, really. I don't know how I didn't get it earlier."
"Envy and Wrath." Jack studied the photos that had been presented in the box. "This looks like wrath to me."
"He doesn't see it that way." Will murmured.
"He cracked it because I was all over Will this morning. So that's his envy too."
"Are you saying you realized he was watching you?"
"It was a long shot. But I knew if he was, it'd piss him right the hell off. So I did it. I think - I think maybe he's confused. Maybe he thinks his sin is wrath but the jealousy this has provoked..."
"It makes him re-evaluate himself." Will finished. "Which upsets Christmas."
"It shifts the whole damn calender." she told him with a quirked smile.
"There's a calendar?" Jack interjected.
"You had to be there." Em replied, not even bothering to look his way. It became apparent to him then the Em and Will were very much on some other wavelength, speaking in their own language. Will was inspecting her face; not her eyes, but her expression, the twitch in her mouth and the set of her jaw.
"If he really was counting down-" Will mused.
"He's lost his structure." Em nodded. "If he really is just like a kid-"
"He might throw a tantrum." Will rubbed his face, and said under his hand: "It explains the scene."
"I'd say it does."
"Does it remind you of-?"
"Not even remotely. You don't think he'll develop-?"
Jack's eyebrows hitched. Hannibal watched on curiously as the empath shook his head, answering her question before she had finished a sentence.
"No, no, he won't. He can't. You're-"
"His god, I know." She took a pause. "Let's not worry about that part of his psyche, shall we? We've got bigger concerns. There's a lot of room for this to turn into an envy kills wrath, wrath kills envy, situation. Or maybe he'll save me the trouble of hunting his ass down and kill himself. I think I have a character who-"
"Willow." Jack said flatly. "That kind of thing? Best not said in my presence."
She flipped her hair to look at him.
"If I decided to pick up a shovel and go on a killing spree, you would never be able to pin it on me. A little vicious chit-chat isn't enough to hold in a court of law. It's called hear-say, and it can be stricken from the record. Quit psycho analysing me and work on Jon."
"Why," Jack said slowly. "Did you refer to him as Jon?"
"You don't want to know." was Will's dry retort. He chewed his thumb, and asserted: "He won't kill himself."
"I've had suicidal characters before. It's possible-"
"Was Timothy Bell-?"
"Tom Blithely."
"-Suicidal?"
"No. But he hasn't been exclusively Tom in all his killings, has he?"
There was a moment - an understanding. The writer sized up the empath and he very readily returned the favour.
"We should go to the latest scene. See what we can see." Em mused, and looked over to Jack. "You might have to drive... Hannibal's car is very nice, but it's not very big."
Four cats, seven big dogs, three little dogs, two ferrets, a budgie, three turtles, two snakes, and a horse; twenty three abducted animals.
There was an abandoned brown sedan by the barn, having been left on and run down from fuel. It had hit a Great Dane, which had been alive when they first arrived. They family who lived on the property had heard some noises and caught the attacker running from the scene. They owned six of the now dead pets, including the ferrets, which had a knife plunged through both stomachs, pinning one to the other.
The horse only had half a skull - he'd hacked at it's spine with an axe that was tossed haphazardly to the side, still bloody. None of the cats retained their tails but some were alive - no one found the tails. The little dogs had simply been crushed under a heavy boot; the bigger ones bore the gashes of knives.
The budgie's head faced the wrong way, its tiny body left on the dashboard of the abandoned truck. The turtles had all had their shelves removed, stuck with toothpicks and pins, one remained alive, but not for long. The snakes had been tied together and left to struggle in a box.
"Why?" Em murmured.
"He was angry." Will couldn't make himself look at the dogs, so he stared at animal control trying to subdue the snakes to untangle them. "Offerings."
"I can't help feeling this is a 'woman, look what you made me do' kind of situation." she drawled, dripping in bitter venom.
"Yeah. That too." Will looked over to her. "You okay?"
"Nope. You?"
"Got any whiskey in that magic bag of yours?"
"For you dear, of course I do." she presented him with a half empty bottle. He took a long gulp and shook his head as it burned his insides.
"Thanks."
"Anytime."
"So we're off to see the Wizard." Em said tightly. It was only a half hour after they'd arrived at the crime scene - they would just catch Chilton at the office hours.
"The wizard?" Hannibal was driving his own car - Jack had been called back to the lab by Katz with some important information he needed to see.
"Chilton." Will told the doctor in a darkly amused slur. "Lions, tigers... bears."
"Oh my." Hannibal murmured.
"I have not consumed enough alcohol to effectively deal with him." Em may or may not have given Will an assessing once over. He had taken enough draws from the bottle to be buzzed, pleasantly staring back at her with a ghost of a smirk on his face. "He's one of my first inspirational go to guys, you know."
"That sounds vaguely sexual." Will mused.
"Oh, I fantasize about him, alright. My favourite frequent fantasy is about stabbing him under his jaw and skewering his tongue to the roof of his mouth."
"Em." Will put a hand around her wrist. The car bumped and he lurched, his cheekbone clashing against her knobbly shoulder. She just snorted and put a friendly arm over his shoulders. He may have leaned into her side a little bit.
"I'm not sorry." she told him warmly. She looked at Hannibal - who was watching the friendly cuddle with hiked eyebrows - and began to list the reasons of why Chilton was hated with all due conviction. "He's a sleaze, a sexist, not to mention incompetent, insensitive, rude-"
"Em." Will put his hand over hers, around his shoulders, not looking up at her, but past her. It was too close to look at her. He liked that.
"What?" she tipped her head at him. "You hate him too."
"Only when you're around."
"Lying doesn't become you, dear." she patted his face fondly, and he rolled his eyes slightly, releasing her wrist and swung his uncooperative body up to his side of the vehicle.
"I cannot show you to him, unfortunately."
"Why not?"
"Timothy Bell was released from my custody yesterday to a minor security facility in Maine. It was reported earlier this morning that he had escaped."
"Excuse me?" the little growl that came out of Em would've made a smart man pay her certain respect. Chilton was a book smart man, of course, but when it came to the wrath of women being scorned, he lacked finesse.
"He escaped." he repeated with a smile.
"When were we going to be informed of this?"
"I sent the papers off yesterday."
"You couldn't pick up a phone?" Em shot at him.
"It's protocol. I informed you. I've done nothing wrong."
"You knew he was a crucial part of our case."
"'Our' case, Miss Hammond?"
"Yes, our case! Did I stutter?"
Will put his hand out onto the back of hers. The touch was gentle enough that she startled, glancing down at it, exhaling whatever fury had simmered under her skin. Will shook his head slightly, and while she replied to that with a scowl, she sat back in her chair, kicking one leg over the other.
Hannibal noticed that she was eyeing off his letter opener, and likewise put his hand on her frustrated bopping knee. She gave him a 'really, you too?' look, but sighed and patted his hand any way.
Chilton ate it up.
"Are you telling me you have nothing to give us?" Will said flatly.
"I wouldn't say that. I did spend months with the man. Perhaps I could offer my services -"
"Dr. Chilton." Em said in a very loud voice, garnering his instant attention and abrupt silence. "Are you a behavioural analyst?"
"In addition to esteemed psychiatrist."
"I thought all your pretty doctorates extended only to the mind?"
"The physical is a mirror of the mental, lovely girl."
The muscle under her left eye twitched.
"So you'd say you're quite versed in the physical language of the body?"
"Yes. I'd say that."
"Oh good." and she calmly popped up and swiped the entire contents off his desk, taking a second swipe to spread out the chaos in the opposite direction, smacking loose whatever she'd missed the first time around. "Analyse that."
And then she walked away.
Will had quite a few things to say to Jack Crawford about not informing them of Timothy Bell's release, but Jack had only found out a half hour before they stormed the office. Beverly was there with papers in hand, her mouth in a tight, unimpressed line.
"The DNA found at his crime scene was compromised, but it still matched him at an astounding percent, and he openly admitted to the murders." Jack told them. "The DNA you procured from the break-in at your home was a full match. Indicative of a brother."
"Jacob Bell. I have met him. Jesus Christ." Em put a hand over her eyes, turning her forehead to Dr. Lecter's shoulder. "I knew I knew him."
"You what?"
"Ugh, I knew I had. I knew it. I told you -" she lifted her eyes to Will. "-well, not in any way you understood... I was dreaming in blood. In memories. They were all twisted. I remembered his face, but not his face."
"The face in muscle and blood and melted skin." Will remembered. "Exhausting."
"Exactly. I dreamt in Timothy Bell's blood. Literally." She started pacing the office, a hand on her hip, the other at her head. "When his little brother went to prison he requested he see me and apologise in person. He was ... Awed. Childlike. Got me to sign his wrist and said he'd tattoo it on. I didn't even think - he didn't even make the list."
There was a long silence. She thumped her fist on a wall in a half hearted display of anger. Will and Hannibal had a few more things to discuss with Jack, but she couldn't hear them. She finished the bottle in her bag and left without another word, stopping by the female toilets to curl up on a closed lid and cry for a while.
She took her time, containing most of the noise whenever the door swung open or closed. She waited until she was calm - the sun had gone down - then splashed her face with water, waited until the puffiness had lessened around her eyes, then went back to see what she could do to help catch the bastard.
Hannibal wouldn't hear of her going to a lonely hotel room. Jack had cited it would put him in danger, if Jacob Bell knew where he lived, but Hannibal only casually implied that Willow was not to be left to her own devices in a potentially suicidal state of mind.
Willow, preferring the company of anything other than misery, encouraged the idea by not denying it.
"So I'm sitting here, mildly inebriated." Em drawled casually, tipping her head back to the couch. "And I'm developing Jon Doe's character."
"Profiling Jacob Bell." Will was quick to correct her.
"How's that coming along?" Hannibal enquired.
"I could use an ear." she lifted her head, spied Dr. Lecter. "Or two."
"I have an ear to spare." he offered with a secret smile that no one else in the room could quite figure out.
"I should hope so. I was counting on it." she didn't miss a beat. "I think I'm going to die."
A beat.
"How does that make you feel?"
She shrugged.
"I've done everything I've wanted to. Never wanted to travel. I wanted to write. I wanted to finish my Encompassed series. Now I guess... I'm in the series... And that's okay. Poetic, maybe."
She took a long drink from a flask she had offered to the both of them, but was politely declined.
"The only other thing I really wanted to do with my life... I wanted to publish something that joined E.M Hart and Willow Hammond. You know?" she nodded to herself. "Marry the two of me. E. M. Hart deserves to have a face that isn't constructed on conspiracy theories. I don't want the fame, but I want the recognition. I want... I want people to know that a kid like me wrote books like that."
She hiccupped.
"Bert's dead. My family's dead. I... I wanna die. Don't gimme that look, I'm not going to off myself, but-... I wouldn't mind dying. I'm tired." she punctuated the notion by a jaw-clicking yawn. "Anywhosies. I think he'll attempt something with one of you. I'm sorry if that's upsetting, but that's what I think."
"What else do you think, Em?"
"Willow." she nodded. "My name is Willow. And I think he thinks you two are competing for me. Yours is the envy. It's what he sees. I think he'll pit you off and one kills the other... And then I'll be so upset I'll kill the victor out of rage. Ours is the fury." and she toasted herself. Will didn't understand, but Hannibal got the Game of Thrones reference.
"I don't know what murder he'll go through with, though. Something Tom Blithely has done, seeing as how it's his brother. That'd be fitting, but he hasn't exactly stuck to Tom before, so..." she put her head down. "I hate how easy it is to do this."
"It is impressive insight." Hannibal offered, refilling her empty glass with the last of the wine.
"Are you trying to get me drunk, Dr. Lecter?"
"No, you do that by yourself." he smiled on her, and she returned it, shaking her head slightly.
"I don't think he wants to live." Will muttered. "I don't think he wants to get away with it... I think he wants you to write him as his own character, the same way you did for his brother. I think he wants you to kill him. I think... I think you're safe. You're his god, you can't bleed, let alone die."
"So you think you two are playing for envy, and I'm going to kill him?" she scoffed. "How funny, that he's setting me up to kill him, when I'm planning to do it anyway."
"Em." Will said softly.
"My name is Willow." she stared at him with both brows cocked. "Go on. Tell me I can't do it. You know what that'll do?"
"Make you want to do it more. I know. You have a problem with authority. I wasn't going to say that." he got up and sat beside her, hands folded at his belt buckle. "I was going to say that killing someone rips you up. It... ruins, a part of you and- "
"No, it rips you up." she corrected. "Because you feel what resonates when you kill someone. What the family goes through. How the police will charge you. Your profile. I kill people and write about the fallout."
"It's not the same thing."
"I'm aware of that." she leaned closer to him. "But you and I won't be on such different worlds for very long. I plan to join the statistic. I'm not scared to wreck my soul."
"Willow." he said again, more darkly this time. "You don't know what it means to have your soul wrecked. You're a good person."
"Please. I'm a drunk. The only family I have are all dead and they've all killed someone, amirite?" she swayed, pinning Dr. Lecter with a look. "'Sides. I've got nothing to live for anyway. Bert's dead. He's dead and I have to go and send him off tomorrow-... Ah, balls." she tipped her head back, swallowing down thick tears that threatened to overcome her.
"I'm drunk." she decided, and put her hand over her eyes. "This is your fault." she motioned vaguely at the good doctor with her half drunk wine.
"Bert's funeral is tomorrow?"
"It is." she looked a little green, a little sick. "I don't think I want to go."
"Funerals allow us time to grieve with those who feel the same loss." Hannibal told her softly. "I think the time to mourn him will be good for you. You do not have to keep yourself together for our benefit."
"Of course I do." she replied instantly, and stared at him as though he were crazy for suggesting it. "I don't want to go. I've made up my mind. I would rather deal with Jon than say goodbye to Bert. I can't, I won't. Not alone. I can't recognise that, not now. Later. After we catch Jon."
"Jacob." Hannibal reminded her, and she shrugged one shoulder.
"Willow." Will said slowly. "Would you like me to come with you?"
Drunk eyes barely managed to focus on his face. He was staring at the floor between his knees, hands wrapped tightly around a glass of whiskey.
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Will."
"You aren't." he glanced at her, cocked a shaky smile, and looked at his drink. "I'm offering."
"Attending funerals can't be fun when you're acutely aware of people's feelin's." she drank whatever was left in her glass.
"Definitely not fun." he tipped his head until he was on her axis, leaning his temple against the back of the couch. "I don't want you to feel alone when you aren't."
They shared an intense moment. She closed her eyes, exhaling a harsh: "Ah, balls," while his hand went out to touch her shirtsleeve. She bit into her cheek and sniffed loudly, blinking rapidly.
"I'd like it if you could." she told him thickly.
"That's all well and good," Hannibal mused. "But how do you intend to get there?"
"I'm not too fond of bees." she mentioned absently.
"Hornets."
"I'm drunk, shuddup."
"I will drive." Hannibal not so much offered, as told them both. He got to his feet, placing the stopper in the crystal bottle they had been returning to all evening.
"Hannibal -"
"I insist."
"I can't ask you to-"
"It would be an honour to pay my respects to this man, and it would give me peace of mind to help you through the grieving process. How we grieve after the death of a loved one is paramount to the people we become in a world where those people cease to exist."
Willow's expression softened.
"That was...Beautiful."
"It is a mantra I've held dear for a very long time." he toasted them both with the dregs of amber liquid in his glass and drank them. "If we have to be there at ten o'clock, I think it is time for bed."
"Yeah. I guess." she patted Will's knee, then used it like an anchor as she rose onto her feet. Hannibal took the glass from her before she let it fall from lethargic fingers and waited a moment for her stance to steady itself. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
"Are you, though?"
"Yup. Sure." she scruffed Will's hair absently, then patted Hannibal's arm, making her way to the door. "I just-" she paused in the doorway, back turned to them both.
"What's wrong?" Will instinctively jerked as she turned - her expression was entirely open. Her golden eyes were veiled with thick, hot tears, that broke the line of her lashes and slipped over her face. "Willow?"
"You are both - both of you, the kind of characters I'd create to soothe my mind." she exhaled what could pass as a laugh. "Spending time with you makes me feel even more insane than spending time in Jon Doe's head. But I like it, a significant amount more. Even if you're both so warm and it hurts everything. Everything hurts. I feel like I'm melting, here."
"You're drunk." Hannibal reminded her gently. "Not melting."
"I know." she swallowed. "Please. Please still be real in the morning. I can't lose anybody else. I just can't. Please be here. Please be... warm." she giggled to herself, blew them both a wobbly kiss, and retreated to what she had claimed as her room.